RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.
RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
VOICES in front sent a thrill of terror through Braddy's heart yet he dared not turn back. With his heart thumping so that he could hardly breathe, the little lag crept onwards until he reached the edge of the gorse.
They were not warders—merely a young man and a maiden who sat on a lichen-clad boulder a little way down the slope, but all the same, bad words trembled on Braddy's lips as he lay flat on his very empty stomach and watched them. So long as they sat there Braddy had to stay where he was and just now every minute counted, for he knew that the warders whom he had eluded during the thunderstorm that had swept the prison farm must now be hard on his track. It was all the more maddening because there was only this one bit of open meadow between him and thick timber, ideal cover if he could only reach it.
They were not warders—merely a young man and a maiden
who sat on a lichen-clad boulder a little way down the slope.
"Rot the luck!" he growled under his breath. "As if they 'adn't got all Devonshire to do their spooning in."
But if the two were spooners they were oddly serious about the job. The man, a big upstanding young fellow of twenty-four or five, was looking black as thunder, while the girl, a slim, dark-eyed creature, had a really tragic expression on her charming face. Anyone with half an eye—and Braddy had two very keen ones—could see that here was a case where true love was not running smoothly.
The boulder on which the pair sat was not twenty paces from Braddy's hiding place, so he, of course, could hear every word they said, and in spite of his eagerness to be gone he grew interested. He gathered that the source of the trouble was a man named Taber. Taber, who lived at a house called Callacot, had made his money in foreign parts, and now meant to increase it by reopening an old tin mine at Stanlake. Stanlake, so Braddy learned, was on land belonging to Mrs. Truman, who was mother of the girl, and part of Taber's bargain with Mrs. Truman was that he should marry Linda, a proceeding to which Ben Caunter, her present companion, had a not unnatural objection. Braddy grew indignant as he listened.
"Dirty dog!" he observed to himself. "Tryin' to force hisself on a poor little gal like that. If I was that young chap I'd punch him proper." Ben seemed to have the same idea in his mind, but Linda would not hear of it. Ben frowned angrily.
"Any one would think you liked the fellow, Linda."
"You know that isn't so, Ben." There were tears in Linda's voice. "I can't bear him. It's mother I'm thinking of. If she doesn't get the money for the mine she will have to leave Stanlake. You know that as well as I do."
"I surely do," he admitted. "But why won't she come and live along with us, Linda. I'd keep her, and gladly." Linda looked up into Ben's face and her lips were quivering.
"She wouldn't come, Ben, dear. It would just about kill her to leave Stanlake."
"It don't seem right that you should spoil all your life just for her sake," protested Ben. A little shiver shook Linda, but she remained firm.
"Don't you see it's just because she is getting old that I have to do it. She's been good to me all my life, and gone without many things so I could have my schooling. Oh, Ben," she begged, "don't make it harder for me than it is already."
Ben groaned. "It do seem hard," was all he said.
Presently Linda got up. "I must go," she said. "I have to walk down to the village for some tea and things. George Taber is coming to supper this evening."
Ben jumped up. "Linda, I can't let you go," he cried hoarsely, and caught her to him. Linda made no attempt to free herself. She let him kiss her, but she did not return his kisses, and Braddy, who could see the look of despair in her sweet eyes felt his own tingling in a most unusual and surprising manner.
It's a poor game, kissing a girl who does not kiss you back, and after a moment Ben released Linda. "Good-bye, Ben," said Linda in a choked voice, then went quickly down the hill and after a while Ben followed.
"Pore luck!" said Braddy to himself, but in his plight he had not, after all, a great deal of sympathy to spare for other people's troubles. He began to think how he might make use of what he had heard. That place beyond the wood where the smoke was rising—no doubt, it was Stanlake, Mrs. Truman's farm. And now that Linda had gone to the village the chances were there would be no one there, except his mother. Here was a heaven-sent chance to get hold of the two things Braddy needed most—food and clothes. There must surely be a suit in the house belonging to the late Mr. Truman, and Braddy felt certain he could secure it without alarming the old lady.
After making quite sure that no one was in sight, Braddy rose and ran for the bridge. Then he faded like a shadow into the wood.
DUSK was falling as he came to its far edge, and in the failing light saw a small farmhouse. Smoke came from the kitchen chimney where no doubt the widow was preparing supper, but so far as Braddy could see there was no one else about. The road was the far side of the house. Between it and Braddy was only an orchard of ancient apple trees, the branches spreading low towards the coarse grass. It might have been made for his approach, and stepping softly from tree to tree, Braddy arrived at its upper end to find himself within a few yards of the house which was solidly built of ancient granite with a deeply-thatched roof. He paused again to make sure that there was no dog about, then glided across to the gable end.
His luck held, for a lattice window stood open, and peering over the sill Braddy looked into a sitting-room, stiffly furnished with horse-hair covered chairs and sofa, terribly tidy and looking as if it were not used once a year. He slipped in without making a sound, took off his boots and crossed to the door where he listened a moment, then softly turning the handle, peered out into a passage from which a flight of stairs rose to the upper floor. The only sound was the ticking of a grandfather's clock which stood against the wall, so taking courage he went noiselessly upstairs.
Four doors opened off the upper landing and Braddy listened at each in turn, then feeling certain that the rooms were empty, tried the first door. This room was empty, no furniture in it at all, the floor dusty and the window none too clean. He turned to the room opposite and his spirits rose for this was evidently a man's room. A pair of large muddy boots and a smell of rank tobacco told him that.
He set to work without a moment's delay and rapidly unearthed from the chest of drawers a complete outfit of clothes. They were, he saw. much too big for him. but anything was better than the canvas breeches and red and blue slop jacket which at present gave him away so completely. He got socks, a shirt and a muffler as well as the clothes, then took a look out of the window to make sure no one was about.
It was now getting dark, but since all seemed quiet he began to change. He had got into the trousers and was pulling the shirt over his head when his quick ears caught a sound. A door below had been opened and closed.
"That gal come home," Braddy said to himself. "Lumme, I'll 'ave to look sharp." Then a bright idea occurred to him, and stuffing his convict clothes into a bottom drawer he picked up the rest of the things and started for the opposite room. Even if someone did come upstairs he would be safe enough in that empty place. If it came to a pinch he might stay there until the rest of the household had gone to bed, then go down and help himself to what was left over of the supper.
Braddy had opened the door when he heard a clatter of feet rapidly ascending the staircase. Terror seized him, and turning swiftly back into the room he had just left he pulled the door to and locked it. He had one chance and only one which was to drop from the window and escape into the darkness. The drop was not more than eight or nine feet, so there was not much chance of harm.
As he pushed open the window the handle of the door was turned. Seemingly the man outside had not seen Braddy for, instead of calling out, he pushed and rattled the handle as if he believed the door was stuck. Braddy seized the respite to fling his clothes out of the window. The man at the door lost patience and put his shoulder against the woodwork. Braddy heard the creak and groan of it and scrambled quickly out.
The door itself was solid enough, but the wood of the lintel was rotten and the pressure caused the screws holding the socket to draw. The door crashed open and the man, a great heavy fellow, came staggering forward into the room just in time to see Braddy slide over the sill, turn himself round and drop.
And that is where Braddy's luck deserted him. There was a paved walk under the window, an old walk in which the stones had become broken and uneven and Braddy just chanced to drop with his toes on the extreme edge of a stone behind which was a hollow. He toppled backwards, falling with a force that half stunned him.
The big fellow had all his wits about him and the moment he saw Braddy's figure dim against the open window, had swung round and raced back down the stairs. He dashed out of the front door, swooped on Braddy and grabbing him by one arm, jerked him savagely to his feet.
"Got you, you dirty thief!" he shouted "What were you doing up there?" Getting no answer, he shook Braddy till the wretched man's teeth rattled. "Speak up!" he bellowed, "or I'll beat hell out of you."
Braddy's tumble had knocked most of his senses out of him, the shaking finished the process, and however much he might have wished to answer he was quite unable to do so. But the other chose to think he was dumb of malice.
"Answer me, you swine!" he roared again, and followed up his order by a clout on the head which brought a choked scream from the unfortunate Braddy.
"That's about enough, Taber," came a voice so close that Taber fairly jumped and releasing his hold on Braddy swung to meet the newcomer. When he saw who it was, a very ugly look crossed his long, hard, saturnine face.
"Who in sin asked you to interfere, Caunter?" he demanded angrily.
"Any man as was a man would interfere to stop a chap being beaten silly," returned Ben stolidly.
"Why, you fool, he's a dirty sneak thief. I caught him in my room and followed him when he jumped out of the window."
"Even a thief's a man, and you haven't no call to beat him like that. There's a policeman down to the village."
"I'll take him to the police when I've finished with him. First, I'm going to know what he was doing in my place."
"It don't seem to me you'll get a lot out of a chap by beating him like that. You've knocked all the sense out of him already."
The last remnants of Taber's temper fell away "Clear out!" he roared. "Clear out or I'll serve you the same way."
"I'd like to see you try," remarked Ben hopefully.
Taber lost no time in trying, and swung a heavy blow at Ben's head.
Taber was well over six feet, Ben about five nine, Taber's massive body weighed at least two stone more than Ben's lighter frame. Taber had knocked about all over the world and felt nothing but scorn for this country bumpkin. So it came as a distinct shock to him when his punch entirely failed to connect, and as a still greater shock, when Ben ducked under his swinging arm and smote him over the heart with a force that made him feel as if a rib had cracked. The pain drove him quite frantic and he rushed at Ben with both fists whirling.
It was exactly what Ben had been expecting, and again he stepped nimbly aside. Dark as it was growing, there was light enough for him to see Taber's furious face as it lunged past. Ben measured his distance, and all the misery of the past months, besides the weight of his sturdy body, was in his blow. His fist crashed on the point of Taber's jaw, the big man's arms shot up as though driven by springs, he reeled backwards and fell full length upon the coarse grass bordering the path.
His fist crashed on the point of Taber's jaw, the
big man's arms shot up as though driven by springs
"Blime, mister, but you aint 'arf got a punch," came a hoarse but admiring voice out of the gloom, and Braddy climbed unsteadily to his feet.
Ben stared at the extraordinary little figure which was attired in trousers a foot too long, a shirt equally large which he had not had time to tuck in, a pair of prison socks and—nothing else. Braddy went on.
"Well, 'e were asking for it. and now I 'opes you'll 'ave the gal an' be 'appy."
"What the blazes are you talking about?" asked Ben sharply. "What do you know about me or—or my girl?"
"I were in that there clump o' gorse, mister," explained Braddy apologetically. "I couldn't well 'elp 'earing."
Ben gazed at the odd little figure, and light broke on him.
"You're the chap that broke out of Dartmoor this morning. Was it what we were saying made you come and break into Taber's place?"
"Taber's place!" repeated Braddy in dismay. "Lumme, I made a bloomer, I did. I reckoned this here were Miss Truman's, and seeing as Taber were coming to supper I reckoned I could pinch a bit o' grub. By gum, it were lucky fer me you did come along. That feller would 'ave done me in if you' adn't." He paused. "Mister, are you going to give me up?" he asked plump and plain.
Ben considered a moment. "I don't see why I should. You haven't done me any harm, and I reckon you've had enough to go on with from that beauty there. Far as I'm concerned, you can go." George Taber's voice broke in.
"You let him go, Ben Caunter, and see what happens. It's two years hard for aiding and abetting a convict, and I'll take good care you get it."
Ben had no idea that Taber had come round. He did not know what to say or do. While he stood considering the garden gate was flung open and two men ran in. One flashed an electric torch, and by its light, Ben saw they were both in dark blue uniform.
"Screws!" muttered Braddy. "That sees my finish."
"You're right, Braddy," said the first warder with a grim smile. "It's the end of your little outing." Then as he saw the lag's extraordinary costume and Taber's big form seated on the grass, a puzzled look crossed his face. "What's all this?" he demanded. "You're not telling me you knocked this man down, Braddy?"
Taber spoke quickly.
"No, it's Caunter there who knocked me down," he said vengefully. "Caught me unawares just as I'd got hold of the lag who'd been robbing my house. You'd better take him, too, for helping a prisoner to escape."
"Helping a prisoner to escape!" repeated the warder. "This is a serious matter if it's true."
"I'll take my oath it's true," exclaimed Taber, glaring viciously at Ben. "Look at my face where he hit me. Do you think he could have done that if I hadn't been holding the prisoner."
The warder looked at Ben. "Is it true what this man says? Were you helping the convict to escape?"
"I hadn't an idea of helping him," said Ben curtly. "I was coming to see Taber here about some other business and beard a row and someone calling out, and found him beating this little chap like he was a dog, so, of course, I pitched in. But I didn't hit him until he went for me."
"Lies!" snarled Taber. "All a pack of lies! It's true I had hold of the lag, but as for beating him, I never did anything of the sort. I've told you what happened officer, and now it's up to you to do the rest."
"Joe," said the senior warder to his companion, "you'd best go down to the village and fetch the policeman, and ask him to take this man into custody."
All this time Braddy had been standing silent with his small sharp eyes fixed on Taber. "And tell him there's two for him to take," he said, with such sharp and sudden decision that both warders and Ben himself turned and stared at him.
"What do yon think you're talking about, Braddy?" asked the senior warder sarcastically. "Have you gone loony?"
"Not me!" said Braddy "I've just come to me senses! Ever 'ear o' Flash Cleaver?"
"The smasher!—who hasn't?" returned the man. "But what's he to do with it?"
"Look at 'im!" said Braddy, pointing to Taber. "It's 'is eyes I knows 'im by—one's brown and t'other's blue. And you better 'old 'im, or 'e won't wait for the perlice."
He was right, for Taber was away like a flash. The warders were so amazed at this sudden turn of events that they hesitated. It was Ben who dashed in pursuit, and he and Taber disappeared into the gathering gloom of the cloudy night.
"Watch Braddy, Joe!" cried the senior warder, and rushed away, but before he had gone ten steps there was a tremendous crash from the direction of the gate. Reaching the spot, the warder found Ben and Taber struggling together amid a quantity of broken palings.
"I've got him, officer," said Ben, coolly. "Caught him just as he reached the fence, and we both went through it together. You'd better get his pistol before I let go."
The warder deftly relieved Taber of a short-barrelled but deadly-looking automatic. "Looks like Braddy was right after all," he said. "Country folk don't carry guns like this."
"And they don't run away unless they've got guilty consciences," added Ben.
"That's a fact," agreed the warder. "I reckon I'll chance it and put the 'cuffs on him."
AN hour later Ben walked up to Stanlake, where Linda met him at the door. "Where's Mr. Taber, she asked. "We've been waiting fer him ever so long."
"There's no such person," Ben answered, and Linda took a step back and gazed at him in amazement. Then she saw the twinkle in his eye and caught him by the arm. "Something's happened. Oh, Ben, tell me quickly."
Ben smiled. "Let me come in and I'll tell you and your mother both."
The two women listened breathlessly to Ben's story. "So we've locked him up in the police station, and they'll take him off to-morrow," he ended.
Linda gave a little crow of delight.
"Oh, Ben, then I shan't have to marry him after all," she exclaimed, but her mother dropped back in her chair with her face as white as chalk. "Then there's no one to buy the mine and we shall have to leave Stanlake," she groaned.
Ben turned to her. "I'll buy the mine, Mrs. Truman."
"You!" was all Linda's mother could manage to say, and Linda looked at her man as though she thought he had lost his senses.
Ben remained perfectly calm. "Yes," he said. "There's five hundred pound reward for the arrest of Cleaver from the Bank of England, and as much more from America. Braddy and I share that." He paused. "And, Linda, when Braddy comes out, we'll have to look after him. Do you mind?"
"Do I mind?" repeated Linda. "Don't be silly, Ben."
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.